Kiss and tell
by Waterfowl
Summary: Lee Adama and Dee have to face logistic issues of carrying out a stealth relationship. Set soon after Lee's appointment as Commander of Pegasus but before the Guardian baseship mission , season 2, and on the outside margin of 'Sine Qua Non', season 4.


**A/N: It has always seemed apparent, Lee and Dee were forced to face some significant logistic issues, carrying out a stealth relationship. Lee's promotion to Commander and reassignment to Pegasus could've hardly made matters easier in that respect. As much as his promotion to President later on (yes, I'm consistently going with the narratively deductible presumption Lee and Dee could be working their way back to each other gradually up to 'Revelations'/'SAGN' arc of season 4). **

**Set soon after Lee's appointment as Commander of Pegasus (but before the Guardian baseship mission), season 2, and on the outside margin of 'Sine Qua Non', season 4. **

**Disclaimer: None of the characters, plot points, inherent to the show, belong to me. The title is employed as a turn of phrase - any allusions to namesake texts are random. **

**Kiss and tell**

They overslept. Not really, in fact. That was his usual time to be up for morning coffee and earliest reports or meetings of the day. Dee, however, made it an explicit point not to stay overnight, for the way their thing could fit the regs, even now that they were on different ships, was still ambiguous enough not to go public. Typically, that wouldn't be much of an issue, since what little time they could grab to themselves was half-stolen through his visits to Galactica for briefings or a dinner with his father, or courier runs she volunteered to.

That night was different. The Admiral gave her a week's reassignment to Pegasus to have the comms systems of both battlestars fully coordinated. Whether that was all his father had in mind, or actually got hint of the off-log calls they'd been smuggling recently, he'd rather not prod. Her company was a more than welcome respite from getting caught up in mounds of paperwork, dragging Kara and Kendra Shaw away from each other's throats every now and then, and chasing late Cain's shadow around the humongous craft. The latter, by far, proved the most trying and tiresome of his endeavors as the Commander so far.

They hadn't seen much of each other in over a week before she reported to Pegasus earlier that day, and later through the night he just didn't have it in him to wake her up and remind of the self-appointed curfew. The touch and feel of home alongside comfortable serenity, her proximity induced, nearly foreign to him lately in those strange, spacious quarters, was worth the trouble he was inevitably getting himself into.

She stretched dreamily, beneath the covers, making a soft huffing noise, as he shifted to reach for the tank-top. It took him the mental image of Colonel Tigh walking in on the scene, for lack of a more hideous atrocity to conjure, to abstain from throwing caution together with the pending briefing to the wind. She was wide awake and leaping out of grasp, however, by the time he bent to meet her lips halfway up.

- What time is it, Lee?

- A quarter to five. Good morning, by the way.

He allowed himself to bask in the guilty pleasure of tracing her dart around the sleeping area, collecting discarded articles of clothing with focused determination.

- You should've kicked me out hours earlier!

- Why? – he was not even pretending to conceal an impish grin by then. – Not that your carriage would've turned into a pumpkin with the last strike of midnight.

He knew he was, in all probability, not about to like where that was heading from the way her shoulders stiffened for a moment, and stood up, finally, to step closer. She shook her head in sync with some private considerations and faced him with a surprisingly concerned gaze.

- It's not about me, Lee. The Pegasus crew are watching your every step. If I'm seen leaving Commander's quarters in the morning… There's no way they are gonna let anything like that slide.

- Does it matter if I don't give a damn?

His demeanor darkened notably. In all honesty, he'd felt oddly protective of that relationship from the get-go, deeming it, quite reasonably so, nobody's frakking business. Not even his father's. Tolerating Starbuck's random smirks was one thing, but if people under his command were to respect him, they'd better darn sure learn to respect his choices or to keep their opinions, unrelated to tasks at hand, to themselves. Or both.

- You should. They are looking up to you.

- And how exactly are you a disgrace to my reputation? – he was borderline fuming by then. – Dee, two thirds of this crew could use your virtue to look up to. Me including.

He was as earnest as he'd ever remembered himself being and could only hope his stare revealed as much. It struck him more profoundly, than he could anticipate, how deeply soaked in sadness her next word were:

- I'm still a nobody, as far as anyone is concerned. Being involved with the Commander doesn't make me any more special.

There were still times he caught himself wondering with unsettling apprehension why in the twelve worlds she would ever have chosen him over late Billy. That she should harbor insecurities along those lines too appeared nothing, if not a wayward absurdity. So much so, he couldn't help a bemused smile.

- For the said Commander – it does. And anyone else, nosy enough to care, could just go to Hades.

The breath was promptly stolen off her lips before it could make it into a full-scale sigh. She motioned to pull away from his embrace, nonetheless, as soon as the kiss arrived to a halt.

- Major Shaw would be here any time now. I'd better go.

- Uh-huh, and bump into her right in the middle of the next closest hallway. Major Shaw is in the habit of showing up early for morning briefings and giving the Marine guard outside my quarters a customized early morning Hades.

The utterly helpless look she bestowed him with drove him to the point of actually feeling guilty. Almost, that is.

- Here's the plan. Let's make believe you've just got in for the meeting over straightening those comms, this once. And next time…

- Next time – you'll set up an alarm.

He had to reach down and lightly peck the finger, pointing at him in unwavering resolve. He might have to see to it that alarm clock was securely out of operation.

* * *

They overslept. He squinted at the watch to make out what time it was in the dimmed glow of a flimsy bedside lamp – meager luxury, apparently, factored into job description of a President of the run-away obliterated civilization. The meeting with Col… Admiral Tigh, as of the day before, was scheduled in about half an hour.

The previous day was a blur. Romo Lampkin pulling a gun at him, because he was presumably too good for the task of issuing hope and guidance to their lost tribe; his father turning down Admiral's stars and setting off to wait alone in the dark on nothing but wish and hope. He was barely holding it together by the time the former Admiral Adama's Raptor was off the hangar deck. Kara took a tad too hasty leave to schedule CAPs, without as much as another word, subdued and distraught herself, and he was unable to make himself move away from the spot he could still picture his father saluting him, for what might have quite possibly turn out to be the last time. Again.

That was when Dee came up quietly, tapping into his tormented reverie with the news of a shuttle ready to take him back to Colonial One. Both of them, in fact, for Admiral Tigh wisely chose to appoint a more amiable spokesperson to tackle the media on behalf of the battlestar command that time around. Incidentally, an appropriate acting XO too, to serve an efficient intermediary in between the military and civilian office. That was, by far, the only time he found himself actually agreeing with the man.

From the way she contemplated him silently, reaching out with all her rue and compassion worth, he knew she recognized the look he must've been sporting. Slender arms felt surprisingly strong and confident, as she moved to hold him, stepping closer.

- He'll be back. It'll be alright.

It felt too tempting to believe, whenever she said it. It felt too tempting to allow faith anchor him within soothing solace of her eyes. He'd long before lost count of times to have wondered in awe what it was about that woman to make facing the next day seem a lot less challenging. They had a lot to talk through, after the press-conference, concerning fleet supplies and security measures, until it wasn't about talking any more. She never left back for Galactica that night.

And now they'd have to cut on either coffee or shower, to make it to the Admiral's office on time. Granted the former tasted and smelled of algae anywhere in the fleet, Galactica including, and the latter was out of the question, he'd have to hope the newly minted Admiral didn't nurse grudges long enough to hold back on minimum hospitality.

Waking her up deliberately, unless to take her breath away, had always been labeled something akin to a crime in his book, yet complicit in that particular felony he was forced to become, nuzzling her ear with a soft syllable to urge her to awareness. To be rewarded with a sleepy frown and a couple of owlish blinks was his favorite part. It was less than in a heartbeat, however, that she sprang up, grabbing his wrist to get a glimpse of the watch:

- What time is it?

He winced, unable to quite stifle a laugh, making a show of nursing the alleged bruise, her frantic fingers just inflicted.

- A quarter to six. If we hurry up, might still make it in time for the Admiral's finest morning brew.

She was up on her feet, by then, eyeing him accusingly.

- Lee, you should've sent me out hours ago.

Her stare was matched with a suspicious, if still teasing, furrow of his own.

- Why would I wanna do that?

- I have reports to survey before the meeting and…

The mischievous grin he was giving her had the intended effect of melting upsurging exasperation, to a point. She waved in the general direction of the conference hall, sighing quietly:

- Because the press are gonna stalk your every move now. We won't make it to the hangar deck, before this gets out.

He held her gaze for a moment, amazed and more than a bit unsure how to address what had been happening. If she were even willing to, as well. If it were his call that time around.

- Let them be jealous.

The blush and smile, his husky whisper scored, bathed him in instant relief. They might not talk about it, them just yet - there'd be plenty of time for that later; they'd hurried things up one too many times so far, to his liking – still the conspiracy was sealed silently. It'd been a long while since he could recall the morning frenzy routine to feel that enticing.


End file.
